


I could kid myself, in thinking that I'm fine

by apatheticxaesthetic



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Birb Dad and Farm Son, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, How to Tag 101, Hurt/Comfort, No shipping though bc that's gross, Whump, this is my first time posting aaa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 15:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apatheticxaesthetic/pseuds/apatheticxaesthetic
Summary: He always felt so useless, so indebted to all these strangers who were forced to watch over him, Qrow tries to convince him otherwise.





	I could kid myself, in thinking that I'm fine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this way back after the volume 5 finale premiered, and it's sat in my laptop's files since. I have a few ideas of where I want the next scene to go, but any ideas are appreciated ;w; Along with any constructive criticism! Please, anything to help me improve.  
> Title is from Panic! At the Disco, Always.

Carelessly, he fell to the floor- his petite body dropping like a rag doll. There was a voice chanting at him in the back of his head, nagging at his conscious. Eternally repeating _“I'm sorry”_ like a mantra. Telling him to, _“Get the lamp to Atlas”._ Yet to him, it was just static, simply just background noise; even then, the voice began to fade.

He couldn't focus, everything was a blur; just a kaleidoscope of colours mashed together. His head was pounding- as if it'd been hit repeatedly like a worn punching bag, and his body ached. It was as if gravity had been clawing at his limbs and tried to pull him down under. He gasped for air.

Oscar pushed himself up onto his knees, ragged. He could feel the sweat on his brows. Wiping the dust off his once vibrant orange gloves onto his pine coloured pants; he could see rips running jaggedly all over his clothes, the bruises that assaulted his body in swollen black and blue clusters, yet, his beloved rainbow cloth still in one piece. His suspenders were torn, lying uselessly by his sides, and his once pristine clothing now a multitude browns and greys, covered in soot and dust from _who knows where._ He was so, so tired.

Verdant sparks cracked in the air around him, bouncing around like loose electricity. His aura doing nothing to ease the _pain_ from the gashes that sliced across his back and oozed blood, or the swollen, heavy ache from his whole being.

His vision wouldn't stop blurring, but he shot his head up in a panic- _Hazel, Cinder – Haven._ His body screamed in protest, Oscar reached out, hand searching for his cane, something he knew hadn't belonged to him for very long, yet, oddly felt like he'd had forever. That odd sense of déjà vu washing over him as his fingers tightly clasped around the cold, metal grooves of the handle of the cane. He let out a small sigh of relief, hoisting the wood up to his chest, holding it there.

He saw crimson and grey come up to him. A gentle, husky voice speak to him, something to latch onto to stop him from completely succumbing to his fear and tiredness. All he could remember was Hazel, angry – no, **furious.**

Dark eyes tinted vivid scarlet and an electrifying yellow, boring into his soul, glaring at him like he should be wiped off the face of Remnant. His eyes blazed lunacy as he roared, yelling profanities and cursing Oz's name, yet, all after that in his memory was darkness. Though, he could see bits; fighting, a girl donned in black boots with feline features (in the back of his mind, he thought her name was _Blake,_ though, he couldn't be sure) and a ghastly white figure; skin pale as snow and hair that criss-crossed as it whipped back and forth in a non-existent wind. Eyes blood red with ruby-coloured veins that streaked her skin. Wrath welling out of her in inhuman screams and twists that certainly should have **snapped her neck,** before all faded to black. He remembered feeling pure terror, but he didn't remember a thing; it seemed like everything was shrouded in haze in his mind.

Slowly, Oscar tilted his eyes and watched as Qrow knelt down, vermillion aura flickering around him. He could hear him vaguely through the thumping in his head, his mouth moving a thousand words a minute, the bright teal from whatever he was holding in his hand blinding him, reflecting up in Qrow's eyes.

“I don't know how, but we did it Oz. You okay?”

Oscar set his dirty hands on his knees, leaving small, dirty hand prints.

“I'm alright.” Oscar huffed out, but he could feel himself slipping, both in consciousness and on the wooden floor of the hall. He found the strength to fully look up at Qrow, and he looked drained- beaten up, but had a bittersweet smile on his face. Memories flooded back to him; the arguing, Qrow saving him, Ozpin taking over-

He shuddered and convulsed as he remembered the feeling of being pushed into the back of his own. As if walls were closing in on him- like a caged animal as Ozpin took over; completely helpless as he succumbed, blacking out.

“Kid?” Qrow asked, concern filling those big, crimson eyes. Oscar was confused to who he was referring to.

“He's resting”, he said, fidgeting with his hands, trying to find something, _anything,_ to say. He took a deep breath, his mind moving too fast for him to keep up; “too much energy”.

Anxiously, Qrow looked at him; a mix between care and concern. Tenderly, he lifted his palm to Oscar's shoulder, stabilizing him. Watery drops of blood mixing with the fabric of his dirty top. Even though it was a hand holding him, all Oscar could feel was guilt, shame manifesting in glass tears that threatened to spill. That similar choking feeling he had when waking up coming back, he sputtered, and quickly removed his hand.

Oscar tried to stabilize himself, shakily propping up a foot. Qrow's scarlet eyes looked over him sharply, as if trying to distinguish something, but it was all misty with concern and care. Gods, Oscar thought; _Why must I be so useless._ He put the lamp down, holding his hands out- just in case. “Well hey, wizard, don't strain yoursel-”

“No!” Oscar cut him off, slight agitation and fear in his voice. He saw shock for a moment in Qrow's eyes, before he continued, breath getting lighter by the minute. “He had a message.”

“We must…”  
He saw his vision twist, a pain behind his eyes spiking.  
“…get the lamp to Atlas”

He nearly toppled, Qrow caught him. Bringing him to his waist.

“'m sorry.” Was the last thing Oscar mumbled, before all went completely black.

And when Qrow saw the cuts along Oscar’s back, webbing up to where the once pristine bandages were, he gasped; holding him closer.

“Oh Gods, Oscar…”


End file.
